


I.O.U: A kiss

by morninghush



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Jim is a fucking nerd and sends the cheesiest Valentine's card, M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, jimlock, shamless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninghush/pseuds/morninghush
Summary: Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was alone. Or was it relief? He wasn’t sure anymore, not after the contents of the envelope were revealed to be what he’d suspected.A Valentine’s card, and a cheesy one at that. Adorned with a big, red heart on the front, opening to reveal a short message inside, scrawled out in a neat, tidy hand.I.O.U: A kiss. Come claim it tonight. 8 PM. The old clock tower. JM x.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. It’s Valentine’s - and that calls for fluff! 
> 
> Fair warning; contains strong language, words like “gently”, “softly” and “smiling” appearing frequently. Reader discretion is advised.

Sherlock stared at the envelope in Mrs. Hudson’s hand. Arriving with the post earlier that day, it had been discarded in a pile of junk mail and only now brought to his attention again. Mrs. Hudson was doing her best not to let on how curious she was, and of course, failing spectacularly. Positively jittering with anticipation, she handed him the bright pink, faintly lavender scented envelope, and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Looks like someone’s thinking of you, Sherlock, dear.” She sighed at the look of incomprehension on Sherlock’s face as he reluctantly took it. “Valentine’s Day, Sherlock! Really, you should try not only living only inside your head.”

Mrs. Hudson lingered hopefully for a while, pretending to be busy with her duster. Sherlock stood like he was struck dumb, tongue-tied for once. After a few rounds about the room Mrs. Hudson seemed to realise her endeavours were futile. Throwing a final, hopeful glance at the envelope in Sherlock’s hand she headed back downstairs.

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was alone. Or was it relief? He wasn’t sure anymore, when the contents were revealed to be what he’d suspected as soon as Mrs. Hudson clued him in. A Valentine’s card, and a cheesy one at that. Adorned with a big, red heart on the front, opening to reveal a short message inside, scrawled out in a neat, tidy hand: I.O.U: A kiss. Come claim it tonight. 8 PM. The old clock tower. JM x.

He must have stared at the card in his hand and the message inside for a good five minutes without moving a muscle, trying and failing to decide whether it was supposed to be a joke or not. Completely unmoving he was not, though; his hands shook slightly and his heavy heartbeats seemed to take on a life of their own. 

This was just like something Jim would do to mess with his head, Sherlock realised. This downright flirting, it was surely an attempt to throw him off, to get some sort of enjoyment out of watching him dance. Or squirming uncomfortably, possibly. Then again, what if it wasn’t…?

Sherlock’s frown deepened as he stared and stared, as though putting enough steel into his gaze would unlock the secrets of the card. In the end, there was never really any doubt in his mind whether he’d go. As always, he couldn’t resist when Jim beckoned. That inclination was proving to be a severe weakness of his.

Unable to check himself, Sherlock looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. 8:05. _He isn’t coming._ A sickening feeling of disappointment and anger rose in his chest. He couldn’t quite decide if the anger was mostly with himself for being duped, or for being disappointed at all. Or if it was with Jim for pulling such a childish prank.

Sherlock crumpled the card he’d been fiddling impatiently between his fingers and let it fall to the ground as if it burned his hands. Just as he turned to leave, the sound of Jim’s voice floated toward him from behind. For all its softness, it hit Sherlock like a physical blow.

“Did I nearly get you? Did you start to wonder if I was going to show up?” Even though Sherlock couldn’t see him, the smirk was evident from his tone. 

Sherlock froze, completely rooted to the spot for a few seconds, before he turned around to face Jim. The man was standing under a streetlight, hands shoved into his coat pockets. He looked completely at ease, and as anticipated, his lips were turned up in that infuriating smirk that Sherlock both loved and hated. 

He knew he couldn’t reward Jim’s behaviour by showing any kind of weakness. Not yet. Revealing too much was setting a dangerous precedent, it would be giving Jim the upper hand.

“Oh, I knew you’d come. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Sherlock was pleased to hear his voice come out even and just a tad indifferent, not betraying the turmoil inside.

It was Jim who gave up the pretense first. Approaching slowly, he only stopped when he was close enough for Sherlock to feel his breath against his face. “Cleverly deduced, darling. Happy Valentine’s,” Jim whispered. The smile on his face was less of a smirk now, more a puzzled, hesitant thing.

Sherlock looked down into the face of the shorter man, allowing himself to mirror Jim’s smile. He figured feigning disinterest was beside the point now. They had both showed up, after all. They were both standing in the soft glow of a streetlight, staring at each other. It wasn’t a trick.

The purpose of the meeting hung between them as an unspoken promise, the tension almost palpable in its intensity until Jim broke the silence. “Well, here we are then, Sherlock. Seems I have a debt to pay.” His eyes glittered, almost pitch black in the darkness.

A shiver ran down Sherlock’s back. “You don’t owe me anything, Jim.” Even though he didn’t want to, he needed to say it. Needed whatever was about to happen to be on his terms as well, not only Jim’s.

“Oh, but I do. I always keep my word, once given.” With those softly spoken words he slowly stretched up and touched his lips against Sherlock’s. Gently, almost chaste, before he retreated a bit. Sherlock couldn’t help but notice that Jim’s eyes were a little wide, his pupils a little dilated even the darkness.

Sherlock felt a rush of adrenaline run through him, and he pulled Jim back into another kiss, arms circling his waist. It was more intense this time, their lips moving against each other. Jim’s lips were warm against his own cold ones, and just as the thought crossed his mind, Jim sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, warming it, before he let go.

It was not with his conscious mind Sherlock made the decision to slip his tongue gently into Jim’s mouth. The small moan that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside Jim almost had Sherlock undone, and even more so the feeling of Jim sagging a little, leaning into him for support. 

They broke apart after what must in reality have been seconds. But they were seconds that encompassed eons. Both of them were breathing heavily now, and they each retreated a step to create some space between their bodies. Neither of them trusted themselves being that close, Sherlock realised. It was too much, too soon.

“Well, then. You may consider us even now,” Sherlock said eventually. He cursed himself internally for the breathlessness that snuck into his voice, undoing any effort on his part to seem in control. Jim didn’t fare any better by the looks of it, not even attempting one of his usual clever replies.

Sherlock let himself drink in Jim’s dazed face for a few moments more, seconds that ended too soon, then he turned on his heel and left without another word. The magnetic pull between them that tried to draw him back lessened with every step he removed himself from Jim’s presence. It never totally disappeared, though, and he doubted it ever would.

Sherlock hadn’t gotten far before he turned to see if Jim was still there. He wasn’t. In spite of himself, he felt his stomach sink, a strange mix of relief and disappointment coursing through his veins. Once he was sure Jim had really left, Sherlock retraced his steps. Glancing around to make sure no one could see, he carefully bent to pick up the crumpled card that was still lying discarded on the ground. Self-consciously, he shoved it into his pocket for safekeeping and moved away from the spot of their meeting once again.

As he put their meeting place further and further behind him, Sherlock was filled with another sort of dread. The real question now was how on earth he was going to dodge all the questions from a curious Mrs. Hudson. She would undoubtedly be waiting for him under the pretense of making him a cup of tea or having another go with the duster. The case of the mysterious Valentine’s card was one Sherlock wouldn’t be helping solve anytime soon.

Still, his steps felt lighter than in a long time, and however many intrusive questions this was bound to set off, Sherlock had no regrets about collecting his IOU. “Happy Valentine’s, Jim,” he mumbled under his breath, and try as he might, he couldn’t quite suppress a smile.

His hand stole into his coat pocket. He smoothed the card as best he could, his fingers tracing the surface. It felt crumpled, shrivelled and broken, its edges jagged. But it was real, it was there. Fitting, Sherlock thought; for them, for whatever this was.


End file.
